


How awful & Yet.

by sugarwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarwick/pseuds/sugarwick
Summary: You’ve always loved Nick, even when he didn’t love you. What happens when you meet Lucifer, what happens when you still whispers Nicks name whenever you see him.
Relationships: Lucifer (Supernatural) & Reader, Lucifer/reader, nick & reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. Why do we want things we can't have?

**Author's Note:**

> * REPOSTED.

You guise your love as friendship, held onto your love that it had long gone became rotten, a decaying tooth in your heart—puss filled and bitter with a mask of honey driven lies. _If you love them, set them free_ was what you had whispered to yourself when Nick fell in love with someone else, when Nick married someone else and when Nick built a happy family with someone that wasn’t you—Still you love him, a love that rejoiced in the death of his own happiness, oh how _disgusting_ — how _awful_ — have you grown that you’d find hope when the love of your life dwindled in his own despair. Really, [y/n]—you should have known that the wishful thinking of the selfish and greedy will never be granted, you should have known that you weren’t the cure Nick was looking for. Still, _still_ , you love him and you promised to never let go.

It had been months since the incident and you tried your best to be a good friend—to support him, to push him out of his darkness but try as you might you could only watch as the light in his eyes gradually deemed until it was merely a faded flicker behind darkening blue hues; Nick was simply dying, unable to let go of his own love for his wife and child—you know that defeated look too well, the stubbornness to heal that will only lead to his eventual destruction; you knew that Nick will rot like you.

You knew that, but you didn’t know to what extent. –- You visit him every week and every week you tell him the same thing, “Nick you have to take care of yourself.” And he’d say, “I do, don’t worry.” But he doesn’t, he never does and in his disheveled state you began noticing something stranger—something even more worrying; his depression turning into anxiety, a fear that had made him crumble further into tepid nothingness and when you ask what was wrong he simply tells you that he has been losing sleep, that he has been having nightmares, that sometimes he can still hear his little angel cry for him. Your heart aches for him but even more so when he tells you that he dreams of his wife—in his bed where he tells him that everything will be alright and he believes her. Jealous of a dead woman, [y/n]? That’s certainly a new low!

Perhaps you should have left Nick long ago, at least for your own sake but then again you had always been a bundle of mistakes and it had been one of those wrong choices that had lead you to him, the one that looked so much like your Nick but smiled so deviously wrathful that he couldn’t possibly be him—

It began in the morning when you found yourself waking up late, you don’t have the time to check on Nick when you’re running late for work but you weren’t worried, not when you knew he’d always open his doors for you, simple words like “You’re always welcome, [y/n].” and “I’m glad you’re here,” were enough for you to come running back and maybe even if you were unwanted you’d still see him—your devotion to him was unmeasurable that it was almost pitiful.

You came late at night, probably too late for a visit but it wasn’t unusual for you to pop up in his estate at strange hours, you were after all his quirky friend, the one that was all sunshine and smiles, the youthful dame that he could claim to be his little sister—Nick never did understand why you stick around ‘boring old men’ like him and you’d only reply ‘ _What can I say, I like boring_.’

You rang the bell and no one answers, you knock three times and no one still and when you turn the knob and the door opens you began feeling heavy dread in your stomach, worry tightening in scrambled knots as you enter the home that felt uncharacteristically cold and while the place had always been quiet it had never been this menacing; depressing maybe but never eerie. Still you continue walking the familiar stairs towards his room were you guessed he should be, “Nick?” you called out and a gushed of freezing air replies, touching the back of your neck and causing you to pause.

Bad things have a way of warning you of its presence even before it happens, but humans have an uncanny way of ignoring it and you were as human as one possibly could be—pushing through even if something in the back of your head is yelling run and never look back. You open the door, hoping to see a slumbering Nick but instead you see him stand, his figure seemingly looming inside his darkened room and you see him stare at his hands, closing and opening them as though he’s inspecting his fingers. “Nick?” You call out and suddenly his blue eyes no longer seem familiar, a stranger’s icy irises staring right back at you.

* * *

To be confined in an imperfect body felt disgusting, how limiting it felt, how weak a flesh could be that he could feel it struggle to contain his being –- just one wrong touch and a human body could combust; a failure in design and yet his father loved them and their flaws so much so that he had to suffer for hating them, he hated this body and yet he had to endure.

 _Nick?_ An effeminate voice rang softly, gently calling out to the soul within his vessel and he could feel the man inside of his body stir in response though not for long, a human soul can’t compete with Lucifer after all—soon Nick was silence and Lucifer himself stares at the girl that had called out to him; he watches her curiously, a smile blooming across his face as he began remembering the memories his vessel contained. “[Y/N]” His voice was smooth, velvet calm that prodded electric fear in her eyes. “You never listen, it’s dangerous at night you know.” He says it mockingly, parroting lines that had been said to her long ago and he could tell she was apprehensive, a perceptive little thing that knew that something was wrong, still Lucifer feigns innocence, a crooked smile perfectly painted in his lips. _Sorry Nick, this one’s going to die_. “You worry me.”

* * *

It was sinister, that smile that was drawn across his paling lips— it was Nick’s face but the way he looked at you; a prey, a meal, a **_bug_** that was below him; what was happening? You weren’t sure and yet you dared walk towards him, “Sorry Nick, You know how it is. I wanted to see you.” You replied words that left your mouth before, trying to replicate a past conversation that should have been a warm memory but turned sour when this man utters familiar sentences in jeering tones. “You worry me too.” Your voice falters, standing just inches away from him and when you meet his gaze, your expression dampens into something unimaginably broken—

Such a desperately sad look you had and Lucifer couldn’t help but let out a curt chuckle, a cruel sound that clawed into your chest. “Oh, isn’t this the part where you give Nick a nice tight hug?” He says, his words dripping raw with malice and you could only draw your hands close to your chest, a stance of a coward that only made Lucifer look at you with disdain. “Who are you?” You asked and he bobs his head back in forth almost playfully, “So no hugs huh?” he says, ignoring your inquiry and taking away the last few steps of space between you and him. “I’m hurt.” Lucifer satirized, bringing his hand almost gently along your neck.

A quiet gasped left your lips, mouth parting into a pained moan in response to the sudden burning sensation across your neck—he doesn’t squeeze the air out of you, the touch is subtle but the pain bubbles from within your skin that it makes you dizzy and sick; you should get away, run—he wasn’t holding onto you, you could at least back away, you think of this, think of pushing Nick’s body away but you couldn’t, couldn’t push him even when you’re hurting.

So you hurled yourself thoughtlessly against the man that had Nick’s face, wrapping your arms around his body and burying your face along his chest and for a moment Lucifer found himself unsettled; appalled by the sudden contact and yet he doesn’t push you away, instead he brings your face up, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Nick—” You whispered and Lucifer frowns in return. “Long gone, [y/n]. There’s only Lucifer now.” He kisses the edge of your lips and that burns too.

You wake up in Nick’s empty room and for a very long time you just allowed yourself to lie on the floor, thoughts wondering off to the devil that had marked your skin—a mark along your neck that will remind you that Nick will forever be unreachable, gone, dead and that you only have Lucifer; the devil that allowed you to live.

  
  



	2. Sweet dreams are made of what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you see the devil in your dreams you call him Nick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * REPOSTED

It began shortly after, the possession of your dreams that often starts with something serine and typical. Sometimes you’d be walking to work or school or to nowhere at all and he’d appear in a cold breeze, a taunting smile embellished across the face of the man you love and in a heartbeat, without delay you call out “Nick?” and you’d see a flicker of something dangerous spark behind his eyes—an anger that had been dyed in blue and your dream would begin to crumble into something frightening and painful. Lucifer say’s it was your punishment but you never knew what crime you committed against the devil, though perhaps it never really mattered what you did.

Lucifer certainly didn’t need a reason, even when you were not a puzzle that fit the picture that would have lead him to Michele, _to his destiny_. You, [y/n] was his unfortunate breath of fresh air, his Sunday afternoon break, there was no justification, no logic, it was just is.

“Ah…Nick?” Again you call out his vessel’s name, a hopeful look glossed across dewy eyes, so naïve, so foolish— _you should know by now that it will never be Nick_. Lucifer mocks a frown, pouting almost childishly and yet it didn’t diminished the darkening expression that painted him livid in your eyes. “tut, tut, there you go again— Nick this, Nick that.” He waves his hand here and there, all the while walking towards you, stopping only when you began to flinch in his presence; his mere presence hurting you, _it was so, so cold_. “I’m not Nick.” He utters each syllables with dangerous conviction and if he were your lover it would have sounded jealous, but the devil is not your lover and it only sounded like a threat. “Luci—Lucifer.” His name left your lips in a stutter, leaving bitter guilt in your tongue; a taboo name that should have not passed your mouth.

His name spoken so carefully sounded so deliriously sweet and he awards you with a boyish smile that mirrored Nick’s—crooked and charming, his blue eyes soft and kind, the devil even brought you close, his hands pressed against the both side of your cheeks, the tip of his nose meeting yours; he looks at you like you were his world, the love of his life but the coldness of his touch reminds you that this was the devil’s lie, still your heart beats against your rib cage, longingly you sighed against his palm, letting your face sink into his touch. Lucifer merely watches the way your lashes fluttered close and open again to meet his gaze, a pained expression drawn along your face –- _so broken, so pitiful._ Lucifer remembers why exactly he hated humans to begin with, he couldn’t love such imperfect things, couldn’t love something that destroys itself and everything around it. Like you, [y/n] who’d allow yourself in his presence if only so you could see your precious Nick. “There, there—no need to be upset.” Comforting words from an impostor, jeering your weakness, all the while running his thumb along your cheek. “I’ll take good care of your Nick right here.” He says before finally disappearing and taking your slumber with him.

You woke up in lethargy, unimaginable tiredness clawing your back to sleep but you knew it was impossible to rest, not when you could feel your heart pulse aggressively inside your body, anxiety eating you from the inside—He says he’d take care of Nick but you doubt it was true and you were right… in the times he visits your dreams, you began seeing Nick rot—Lucifer wanted you to see _him_ rot. To make you understand.

_Time to say au revoir and bury the dead six feet under._

* * *

Your dreamland that night was pure white, vast of nothingness and you lied comforted in a misplaced bed that seemed to want to devour you. You sat there quiet, mind empty of your worries and sadness—your subconscious is allowing you to run away, leave the pain even just for a moment but your peace doesn’t last any longer than he deemed necessary, “Missed me?” Lucifer greets, juvenile and playful with merit in his eyes and you gasped, returning to your senses, breathing again— And when you look at your unwanted visitor, for the first time you hadn’t call out to Nick, instead a worried expression bloomed across your face, “Are you…are you okay?” You inquired— almost getting up to run up to him stopping only midway when you remembered; _he wasn’t Nick_.

“Worried? I’m touched.” Lucifer pressed a hand across his chest, grinning at you though his expression faltered when your body tittered back away from him—like an animal who backs away in mistrust. He knew you were still seeing Nick, even when his body began to burn in the mere presence of his uncontainable Being, _what was wrong with you?_ He wondered

“You said you’d take care of Nick.” You accused, a flicker of bravery lingering behind your words and Lucifer merely chuckles, shrugging his shoulders dismissively before cocking his head to the side, “Well.” He began, “I have been taking care of Nick’s body— it’s not _my_ fault this thing is fragile.” Weak, bordering on useless actually but Satan has to make do, at least for now. “A human body can only do so much, [y/n].”

You were quiet, contemplative, worried—always worried and your forced yourself up, forced yourself against the fear that pressed into your body, forced yourself to walk towards him and that was a first too—you allowing yourself to walk towards the devil; _What was wrong with you?_ You wondered. “Is it painful?” You asked, stopping uncharacteristically close, _stupidly_ close. “For Nick, probably.” He admitted, “Had always been since day one.” Lucifer added so carelessly and you could feel your heartbreak but you shake your head because the question wasn’t meant for Nick, as strange as it must have been—“No, for you.” You corrected, “Does it hurt you?”

Lucifer studies your face, searching for a lie that should have been somewhere in your face but wasn’t; Because humans eventually try to deceive the devil, fake sympathy and adoration in an attempt to gain something—humans who allowed the devil inside were just greedy—pretentious. “Not at all.” He finally replied, a cocky smile erupting from his lips, “Thank you for asking, love.” And he deems you a different kind of failure, like those saints who cares too much and love themselves too little; _you’d probably die like one too_.

“I don’t want to see you like this.” You murmured quietly and you would have reached out to touch his face, trace your fingers along burning lacerations but you don’t, you don’t because you know better than that—Lucifer too knows that it would have been for the best too. “Pity.” He cooed, head falling to the side, dismissive but almost regretful. “But I’ll tell you what— I’ll grant you that one little wish.” Lucifer gives you a smile, temptation lifting each corner of his lips. “There’s no need for a crossroad to have a deal with an angel.” You considered his offer and wondered what else you could possibly lose if you agreed— to give in to an _angel_ ; the fallen—the broken –-the sinning son of God, “No.” You shake your head, gaze falling to the ground unable to look at him anymore longer than you already have.

Lucifer doesn’t reply, only watching as your hair curtains your face, seemingly hiding from him and he wondered for a moment what to do with you—the fragile human that should have been dead the moment you have met his eyes.

Eventually the devil decides, that he supposed that today, like all the others days—you’ll live, he’ll leave you alone disappearing in a quiet breeze and he’d even grant you your wish without a kiss, you won’t see the fallen angel—not for a very long time.

  
  



	3. Fated after all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alas, you meet the devil again and perhaps this time there's no turning back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * REPOSTED

You could _pretend_ it was peace, the teetering anxiety that the devil left behind— oh ** _!_** But how it plagued you, this **peace** that he granted, returning you to the commonplace routine that you undoubtedly belonged too, though this time there is no widower to break your heart or elate it with hopeful ❛maybes❜ and there is certainly no Lucifer to taunt— _haunt you_ with the voice of your never-lover, this should heal you, shouldn’t it ** _?_** The absence of that honeyed poison you were so willing to devour if only you could lavish in its warmth, so you, the desperate, welcoming a villain in an attempt to cure a pestering loneliness only the unwanted could endure and when you realized this pestering reality—that you, who only knew how to love one man **_finally_** strayed away; funny, how it all fell apart how your mind linger to the devil, _Where is he **?**_ You wonder that one midnight while you were underneath a shower almost too hot for your bare skin. _Would he return **?**_

But while your days went by dully, Lucifer played to his heart’s discontent— painted catastrophe in his path and leaving only a trail of death behind him and only ones does his mind wander towards you; you looking up at him, lashes fluttering & frightened, his name living your tender lips in a hesitant quiver—you, who witness his _rebirth_ into a fragile human, you, who loved the soul that reside in that borrowed body and you, who was graced by his rare mercy. He only thought of you ones, when he was falling— back again to where he came from, to where he belonged. Lucifer had wondered what would you say if you saw him burn, would you ask if it hurt ** _?_** Or perhaps you would rejoice ** _?_**

 _Ah_ , but he does not allow himself to ponder too deeply—won’t allow you to seep into his psyche and poison him. Instead, he grants his attention elsewhere. In that cage where no one sleeps— he shall suffer, but not without inflicting the same pain to his _dearest_ company— Sammy, Sammy, Sammy and Oh dearest big brother; they will all ache together but not you, never you.

And so time moved along— yours moving in a blur, almost too fast for you to remember anything and his went by too slowly, so stagnant that it might as well stopped completely but even in this slow tangent of time, there still no rest for the wicked, slow as it was the game is never truly ended— One day Sammy’s body is saved, another day his soul, then it was just him and Michael and that retched cage, yet there is still no reconciliation, God knows he loves his brother but there is no forgiveness between brothers and then finally, **_finally_** he too was delivered from his imprisonment, _ah no—no_ not delivered, **_transferred_**.

Lucifer would wake up and his whole being is heavy and he knows he is back again in that familiar body— and how he dreads it, disgust washing over him and leaving a bitter taste in his tongue, to once again be confined inside such appalling thing, _Oh_ and the shame continued on— to lose everything that he took pride in, the power he bragged, the last blessed thing in his soul gone and he became, in every sense of the word human—fragile and useless and to be ridiculed. He was so human— so very human that he felt _relief_ when you stumbled onto him in his lowest state.

The Lady of Luck must hate you, because surely meeting him again is not an endowment of grace. Your eyes is fixated on him, surprised drawn along wide eyed hues and he looks too much like the Nick you loved— the messy hair, **_the pitiful plight_** , you could have mistaken him as your forlorn friend not for the wicked smile that erupted along his lips like wildfire warning and telling you to turn away and run— Run, run, **_run_** as far away from the devil who never left your thoughts even when he was no longer truly there, the devil who cursed you with the need to see him again. Oh ** _!_** It was frightening, how you’ve fallen so low.

You feel your body stiffen, your heart palpitating against the cages of your chest so painfully that you found yourself whimpering, yet a jeering chuckle leaves Lucifer’s mouth and he cocks his head at you and in respond you caved into yourself, arms pressed against your chest and teetering backwards but when he motioned towards you, hand beckoning to come closer – _like an obedient pet_ , you do. **You do** , you walk towards him, stand so close that he could so easily pull you even closer.

“You—are back. Why ** _?_** ”

You dare asked, only to regret your inquiry when his almost welcoming demeanor drops. Lucifer frowns, head lulling side to side – he didn’t know _why_ and he didn’t want to inform you of what had happened either, **_there was no need for that_** , no need for you to delve into him any deeper than you already have. You know him, talked to him, breathing with him, this is the closest a human should be with the fallen angel, and surely that is cutting it too close already.

“ _Ah_ , but shouldn’t you be happy ** _?_** ”

He deflects, avoids the question and instead mocked you for your past. Lucifer is smiling again, taunting and cruel again just so you’d stop asking unnecessary things and it was your turn to frown because you knew what he was going to say next.

“You get to see good o’l Nicky here again.”

The devil touches his mouth, pressed his fingers along his lips and bite into the skin gently—his human habit, a fixation of sort, something he doesn’t notice but you do, because when he does this your eyes is peering into the finger that met his tongue.

“Lucifer.”

The cursed name leaves your lips in a soothing tone, gentle and sweet and _oh so_ very careful that its owner found himself pausing, staring at you with curiosity that urged you to continue—to say it again, say his name again and again, in that same exact tone, in that same way as though there was only him in your eyes even when what reflects against your irises is Nick. Lucifer hums for you, a smile seducing you to go on and say what you want to say but before you could be persuaded to do so, he is already reaching out for you, taking your wrist and pulling you close.

“You know what ** _?_** I’m glad you’re alive.”

His fingers on your cheek, traveling down and then resting his hand against your neck, against the flesh where he first marked you, the scar still refusing to fade away even when you tried your best to heal.

“It seems like we’re meant to be after all.”

 _Fated together_ — the implication of it all is daunting, but when his hand is on you, tender and benevolent you’d find yourself accepting it. Sinking into his touch and it’s there you realize that what burnt you wasn’t searing heat — Lucifer is cold, an all-consuming chill that will never truly go away.


End file.
